


sorrow of your own making

by animosities



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Angst, Canon Compliant, First Kiss, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Spoilers, spoilers up to c2e124
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-11
Updated: 2021-03-11
Packaged: 2021-03-18 06:53:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,768
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29979030
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/animosities/pseuds/animosities
Summary: Caleb perhaps understands Essek better than any of them. But unlike Essek, he had someone to pull him from the shadows and send him staggering down the path to healing.--canon compliant additional scene for c2e124
Relationships: Essek Thelyss/Caleb Widogast
Comments: 8
Kudos: 106





	sorrow of your own making

Essek won’t look at him.

Perhaps won’t is the wrong term. Essek _can’t_ look at him. 

Caleb tries to catch his gaze, to draw the drow’s eyes to him. He hadn’t realised just how much attention Essek often paid him within the group setting. Although he would converse with the Nein at large, his attention always drifted back to Caleb with a subtle smile and a warm gaze, loosened by tea and wine and conversation. Now, however, Caleb doesn’t think the Shadowhand has spared him a single look since they arrived. 

Their conversation is more private now, hidden away within the depths of Essek’s private chambers. Caleb listens to Essek talk; the kindling that so often burns within his stomach within the other’s presence is overshadowed by a deep, familiar pain in his chest. There are greater things at play here than the feelings he may or may not have for a friend, but somehow hearing of Essek’s pain and regret is the thing that gets to him more than the ordeal of the past few days. Perhaps it’s because the chaos around them had unfolded so quickly, each hit coming soon after the other and leaving little room for discussion or processing. From Lucien’s arrival to almost watching Beau die to fleeing for their lives amidst the revelation of a stolen bag—it’s been a hell of a week and Caleb has hardly had time to breathe. But now, as they recount their tale to Essek and receive untold validation about the horrors they’ve witnessed and must now face, Caleb can’t help but be distracted. 

He’s used to Essek watching him, whether it’s while he’s transcribing a spell or with their heads bowed together over an old tome, but every time Essek looks over to Caleb’s position now his eyes dart away immediately as if shocked. Caleb knows why. He’s not an idiot. He can see Beau’s intense gaze cataloguing each and every one of Essek’s words and actions, the way Fjord hasn’t quite let down his guard, the way Jester tries to maintain a smile and cheerful demeanour but doesn’t quite manage it amidst the state all of them are in. The Nein had welcomed Essek, forgiven him, but they haven’t forgotten. Forgiveness is not trust. Forgiveness is a clean slate upon which to rebuild. 

Gods, if Caleb doesn’t miss the house that used to be there. 

He likely understands best out of all of them. He’d found a kindred spirit in Essek, a soul that sang with his in harmony. A mind as sharp as his and a cunning that rivalled his own. A wit that tickled him just so and a deviousness that he can’t help but recognise. They’d been using each other, to start with; they both know it. It had been an exchange, a careful test of what the other had to offer. Everything in this life is transactional and this had been no different. Caleb had been offered magic he hadn’t yet thought within his grasp, guidance he would have sold a limb for, and in return he offered a measly favour or two (or three or four…). He’s no fool, though; he knows Essek had been watching them, surveying them, keeping a close eye on the so-called Heroes and reporting back anything of note they did. They used each other as tools to accomplish their own desires and, somewhere along the way, a mess of friendship bloomed between them.

And what a mess it was.

Caleb can’t say he’s too surprised by Essek’s betrayal—hurt but not surprised. It felt too much like what he could have been in another life, a man who hadn’t broken and crumbled before his time. Caleb can’t say he wouldn’t have done the same given Essek’s position. He understands to his deepest core how Essek ended up bound on their ship, disguise slipping away as judgemental gazes bore down upon him. But there was no judgement from Caleb. He has done terrible things in his time, all of them have. He’s sure many things the Nein have done together would constitute a war crime in one nation or another; he finds it ill-advised to throw rocks at glass houses. And Essek knows this, or, at least, they told him. They told the man that they are all fucked up to some degree, that they all have regrets and memories they would rather not surface. But they are the Nein. They forgive and grow and become stronger together. Caleb understands the instinct to shy away and stand alone, bearing the weight of the world upon weary shoulders. It took him years to overcome. Now, he only wants Essek to allow them to alleviate that burden, somewhat, to free him of his shame. 

They part ways with Essek, somehow both more relieved and unsettled at the same time. They have new avenues to explore and new people to contact in their seemingly never-ending battle against an unseen enemy. A debate bounces back and forth between them as they settle into their own quarters: who to call, who to visit, who to persuade to join their cause. Some suggestions hurt more than others, but Caleb keeps the depths of such pain hidden. 

Some time later, they find themselves gathering around Dagen who seems to have already made a name for himself at the outpost.The man tries to wave them off as he’s gifted with affection and hot coco, but Caleb’s sure there’s a hint of fondness beneath what is an obvious joy to be free of them. He’s worth every penny, that’s for sure. 

Caleb stands on the outskirts of the commotion, never one to be too comfortable with such affection with so many eyes on them. His mind wanders back to Essek alone in his quarters, isolated in a self-imposed exile. It’s likely the safest place for him, carrying out his duty to the Dynasty but far, far away from suspicious eyes. A seed of worry niggles at Caleb; he hadn’t thought how it might look for them to arrive and draw attention to Essek, especially with news of Vess’s unfortunate demise. They’d been so convinced he’d be the answer to all of their questions, a beacon at the end of a dark tunnel. The peace treaty had seemed so long ago with all that has happened since. He admits an oversight on his part; it is hard to remember intricate politics of lands long-departed in the face of much more pressing hardships. They had set sail on a frozen adventure chasing dreams and nightmares; Essek had been the one to stay behind and clean up the mess of his own making.

Caleb hasn’t forgotten how it feels to constantly stew in self-loathing and regret with no distractions to draw you away from the shame. The darkness is something that still lurks within his mind daily, but it has been a while since it had been all-consuming. Back then, it had taken a little goblin girl in a filthy prison cell to help him pull away from that sorrow, bit by bit, until he could eventually smile again. It had taken months of companions by his side for him to finally relent and accept that there are people who support him. Where is that for Essek, shielded here in the icy abyss? 

He makes a decision, there and then. His decision extends only as far as telling the others that he’ll be back in a moment, and he stumbles when Beau asks where he’s going.

“I, uh, borrowed something. From Essek. A while back,” he says, words coming in stops and starts. “I should return it before I forget again.” 

Beau’s eyes are disbelieving, a single raised brow conveying all she needs to, but she replies with, “Yeah, who knows when we’ll see him next, right?” and that’s good enough for Caleb. 

“Ja, of course. I’ll meet you back at the room,” he says, already backing away from their rowdy little scene. Beau gives him a look that is entirely too knowing and not entirely approving, but Caleb brushes it aside as he turns to leave. 

Essek, thankfully, is still within his chambers. A delicate ‘come in’ follows Caleb’s knock but the man doesn’t look over straight away as Caleb enters. He’s levitating by his desk, a book open between his hands, and his eyes scan the final page before he looks up. The book snaps shut immediately. 

“Ah. Caleb. Is there an issue?” Essek’s voice is as smooth as ever, but there’s an underlying tension Caleb can sense. His grip on the book is too tight to feign a casual demeanour and his smile doesn’t quite reach his eyes. 

“No, no. I just, ah, wanted to check in. See how you are.” He feels foolish now he says it but he’s come to the end of his admittedly frail plan. He’s already given Essek a heart-to-heart, a show of solidarity. What business has he returning again to do more of the same? 

Perhaps it’s because he hadn’t been satisfied with the result. He hates to admit it but it had been the niggling of the Nein, the unending prodding and poking that had drawn him from his shell. It had taken years for the pain to become bearable, yet only a few months for him to start healing. The mistakes are still there, his betrayal and grief still a constant presence in his life, but they are not the only things he carries with him now. He has allowed himself a modicum of happiness, of friendship, of love. He cannot undo what he has done, not yet, but he can live in a way such as to not waste the time he has been given. 

“I am fine,” Essek says, turning from him to face a desk with books piled in organised stacks. He places his current book atop one of them and spends more time straightening it than is strictly necessary. “I simply need to lay low until things settle down.”

“With what we think is coming, that may not be possible,” Caleb replies. At Essek’s cold huff of laughter, he realises that it may not have been the most reassuring thing to say.

“Why are you here?” Essek asks, his tone not unfriendly, but certainly not welcoming. “Should you and your party not be heading off?”

“I wanted to talk to you.” 

“We are talking.”

“Are we?”

There’s a pause, and Essek replies, “Yes.”

“But you won’t look at me.”

In a show of defiance, Essek turns and looks at him. Caleb holds his gaze silently until the drow looks away. He pretends to busy himself with his books again and Caleb can’t help the sigh that escapes him. He edges closer to Essek and extends a hand, catching his forearm and drawing him to a halt. 

“No matter what happens with the Dynasty or the Empire, you will still have your place with the Nein. _We_ are your Den, now more than ever,” Caleb murmurs, voice low but emphatic. “We are _all_ washed up fuck-ups. Some more than others,” he adds, not able to help the self-depreciating chuckle. “There is a time I would have sold out every single one of my friends, a time I would have been happy to never see them again and continue on my own. I only cared about _myself_ and my _revenge_ . I was—I was _bitter_ and broken and- and.” He stutters to a halt, words failing him in Common to explain the raw, jagged pain that had kept him awake at night. “I cannot begin to explain the people I have hurt and the people who have hurt me. The guilt and regret—it is—it’s _overwhelming_ . It’s _consuming_. It is something I carry with me all the time, but the burden is lighter with my friends around me. I can’t ignore it. I can’t hide it. It is with me always, but it is not the only thing I have.”

Essek’s eyes stay fixed on the hand wrapped about his arm. His jaw is tense, his breaths shallow. 

“It will take time,” Caleb continues. His words are more gentle now, soothing almost. “You need to grieve for the choices and mistakes you have made, for the people you can never apologise to. But then you need to _grow_ . Do better, _be_ better. Leave the world a better place than when you found it.” The familiar words bring a hint of a smile to his lips; they’re bittersweet now, with the corpse of Molly hunting them down. Still, his memory lives on. He had helped to draw Caleb from the shadows; now it’s Caleb’s time to pay it forward. 

“That’s very motivating but it will not stop people wanting me dead,” Essek snips, words bitter, barely containing a wealth of emotion that threatens to burst forth. 

“There are plenty of people who want us dead,” Caleb says, attempting to sound light-hearted. “And some who have succeeded.” At Essek’s sharp look, he knows he’s failed. He offers a feeble smile and continues, “Luckily, we have good clerics.”

Once again, Essek looks away. 

Caleb gives the other’s arm a gentle squeeze. “I know I cannot snap my fingers and make everything better, that it will take _time_ to heal and move on, but I am here whenever you are ready. I would like to resume being your student and friend when the time comes.” 

Essek seems to hold a breath and release it in one long, gentle sigh. The muscles at his jaw loosen and he floats down until the soles of his boots touch the floor. At this height, Caleb stands just a tad taller than him. He finds he quite likes it. 

Essek turns to him, head raised to meet Caleb’s gaze. His mouth opens but closes a moment after, lip caught between teeth as if he’s contemplating his next words. A fragile peace falls between them—a fragile peace that shatters as Essek leans in and captures Caleb’s lips with his own. 

Caleb gives a sharp gasp but relaxes shortly after. Essek’s lips are dry against his own and colder than he’s used to, but the fire in his stomach roars nonetheless. He finds himself chasing the kiss as Essek pulls away moments later, chasing the taste of a gift taken too soon. 

“I-I am sorry. I shouldn’t have done that,” Essek says, voice clipped, strained. He tries to step away, to put distance between them, but Caleb tightens his hold on his arm to stop him. His grip then loosens and his fingers drift lower, trailing over the hem of Essek’s sleeves and catching his hand in a delicate hold. Essek doesn’t try to pull away again. Caleb tugs gently and Essek steps towards him. When Caleb catches his eye, he sees a nervousness etched into Essek’s features, hesitation that he’s accustomed to. 

Caleb ducks his head to reclaim his kiss, spurred on by a kind of reckless abandon he hasn’t felt in years. He hadn’t planned for this, hadn’t anticipated this at all. Whatever they hold between them now, it feels fragile but invigorating, a promise of days to come when they emerge from the other side of this battle. There are things they both must do, enemies they must conquer, bridges they must rebuild, but here and now—

It’s just them. 

When Caleb parts from him, he stays close enough for their breath to mix in the chilled air. His heart stammers a staccato rhythm and he’s sure a blush decorates the freckles high on his cheeks. 

“Perhaps,” he says, voice low between them, “we could be more than friends when the time comes.”

“Perhaps.” Essek’s smile seems genuine, and though his eyes are still tired and carrying the weight of the world within them, they reflect his flicker of joy. “You should rejoin your companions before they assume I’ve stolen you away.”

“It wouldn’t be the first time,” Caleb quips, remembering evenings squirrelled away in the library together, hours lost to research and learning as they forget the world around them. Essek’s own smile widens and Caleb knows he’s thinking of the same. 

But still, he leaves. 

His heart feels lighter this time and he can only hope Essek’s does too. It’ll be a long journey for both of them but it’s a journey best shared with others. He may not know the way ahead but he knows where he’s been, and perhaps he can help Essek find his way back to him. 

They’ll be okay, he thinks. 


End file.
